


Salvage

by rageprufrock



Category: Smallville
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-19
Updated: 2010-07-19
Packaged: 2017-10-10 16:17:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rageprufrock/pseuds/rageprufrock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it's better to hold onto what is left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salvage

"I'm going to Metropolis for the afternoon," Lex says, and Clark can hear paper in the  
background.

  
The part of him that still dreams of city lights and flashy cars wants to beg to go, too. But  
Clark's made a lot of mistakes recently, and even he's not stupid enough to ask for things  
when he's broken all the toys he got before: Lex's cars, Lex's patience, Lex's trust. He's  
not going to ask Lex to waste gas on him, too. And Clark figures that when he asks and  
Lex says "no," it will hurt more than if he just doesn't ask at all.

  
So Clark bites his lip and says, "Oh, okay," before he hangs up the phone and goes to the  
Talon.

  
It's easier to claim that he and Lex are fine when his parents don't have to watch him  
watch the phone.

*****

  
And the thing is, Clark knows that Lex prioritizes, that he has all these mental lists about  
where things should go and in what order. Clark remembers being number one, or close  
to it, and now he's scraping the bottom of the barrel. He can feel Dominic and Victoria  
breathing down his neck. He asks his mother how this happened, and she can only look  
at him with surprised eyes.

  
"You've drifted apart, Clark," she tells him. "That happens a lot. It's natural."

  
Clark is unnerved by that. "But we didn't drift," he says oddly. "I see him all the time."

  
She doesn't say anything, just sips her tea, watching him, like she wants to say a million  
things and doesn't think she should.

  
There's an art to motherhood, Clark knows, and a large part of it involves silence.

*****

  
"I'm meeting with a few investors today," Lex says, and Clark can hear keyboard keys  
from a distance.

  
Somewhere inside there is a version of himself that says that it doesn't _matter_ if Lex is  
meeting with investors, because this is important, too, but Clark can't make himself say it.  
Because Clark's made more mistakes than even he planned for, and dialing for the  
mansion nowadays is an exercise in dogged determination. But he has to call because his  
mom always told him "You have to _try_," so Clark is calling but he doesn't think it's  
going to work.

  
So Clark just closes his eyes and says, "Sorry to have bothered you," before he hangs up  
the phone and goes to the barn.

  
Lying to his mom isn't an option anymore, and his dad won't bother him there.

*****

  
"He keeps blowing me off," Clark complains, shredding a napkin to pieces, frowning at  
his hands.

  
His mother says, "Well, I don't really blame him, Clark." Clark must look like a puppy  
she's just kicked because she is quick to say, "I ran into him in town, Clark. I asked why  
he hadn't been around and he explained you'd asked him not to come around anymore."

  
Clark remembers that, and he really wishes he didn't. Chloe thinks she's so traumatized,  
having a day of memory wiped. He'd switch places in an instant.

  
"That wasn't _me_, Mom!" Clark argues.

  
His mom looks at him with narrowed blue eyes. It's the first time she hasn't been on his  
side. "I know it's not your fault. But did you apologize?"

  
He gapes at her.

*****

  
"What do you _want_, Clark?" Lex asks this time, and he is in a huff.

  
Clark doesn't know what exactly to say because he's always wanted something before.  
Today, he wants to say, "Just you," but that isn't right - or, it is, but he can't say that out  
loud. Not here, not yet, never over the _phone_. Besides, he hasn't really straightened  
out (if that's what's necessary at all) those confusing, overlapping edges of friendship and  
Something More. He doesn't want anything today, he just wants Lex.

  
Clark says, "I - I just wanted to talk to you," and he feels guilty for it, for wasting Lex's  
time with something so puerile.

  
Lex sighs, like he is almost sorry that this just isn't going to work out. "Helen and I are  
having dinner with some of her old friends tonight, Clark."

  
Lex doesn't even apologize anymore, and Clark is really wondering whether if he did, the  
apology would be a lie.

  
"I think we should talk," Clark tries, because his mother told him not all friendships were  
as easy as his with Pete, and did he want it enough to keep trying?

  
Lex sighs and Clark hears Helen's voice in the background, asking about could they take  
a car that didn't uphold the Playboy Billionaire stereotype? Clark wants to yell at her, say  
that she shouldn't care about any of that, because if Clark can get into Lex's Lamborghini  
in the middle of a small town street and get called a faggot, she can damn well be happy  
that he loves her and ride whichever fucking car Lex wants to drive.

  
"Fine, we'll take the Bentley - yeah, maybe we should talk, Clark," Lex says, and he's so,  
so tired.

  
Clark feels his heart speed up, because he _does_ want it enough. "Okay, how about - "

  
"Lex, we're going to be late," Helen says, a _lot_ closer to the phone than before.

  
"_Jesus_!" Lex yelps, and Clark hears leather shifting. "All right, all right, let me get the  
keys. I'll talk to you later, Clark," he gripes, and hangs up.

  
Clark never really understood D.H.Lawrence, he thinks, before this moment.

*****

  
His mother is laughing so hard she's trying not to cry. She's got flour on her cheeks and  
even his dad is cracking a grin.

  
Clark's going to start setting things on fire any minute now if they don't stop. "This is  
serious!" he complains. "She's sucking his soul!"

  
"My _God_, Clark," his dad says.

  
Clark's dad likes Lex a lot better now; the change started slowly after Lex cleaned up  
horse crap, but got fast after Lex got engaged. Clark thinks there's some sort of direct  
correlation there that he ought to be making, but he's too bothered by the fact that no one  
else wants to save his best friend from what is obviously going to be the (second) biggest  
mistake of his life. At least Dr. Bryce isn't controlling men with her hormonal voodoo.

  
"She's just doing what every woman does when it gets serious, Clark," his mother  
lectures, still giggling. "They _are_ engaged."

  
"That doesn't mean she starts bossing him around," Clark retorts.

  
"Yes it does," his parents say together.

  
Clark scowls and mutters something about homework.

*****

  
But the thing _is_, even after they have The Talk - where Lex makes lots of jokes about  
how Clark is way to old to get getting this and Lex is way too young to be giving it -  
things still aren't...quite right. Like there is a missing piece, which is okay, really,  
because Clark and Lex are good friends again, but Clark thinks obsessively about what is  
gone. It's nonessential, he knows that, but he likes, or liked, it a lot, wants it back, has  
been looking for it.

  
Yesterday, he slipped his hands between the couch cushions, distracted, looking for  
something that isn't there anymore.

  
Lana tells him, "Lex doesn't look at you the same way anymore," out of the blue one day.

*****

  
So Clark isn't really _grieved_, not exactly.

  
He can't put his finger on what exactly is gone, but he's happy to have something at least.

  
He asked Lex about it once, asked, "Something's...different. Not bad. But off." Lex just  
looked at him for a long time, blue eyes more distant than Clark remembered them being  
just a few months ago. Then he said, "Nothing important, Clark. Everything changes."  
He smiled. "And we're still friends."

  
Clark nods, even now, thinking about the sound of Lex's voice when he said that.

  
"Sometimes," Lex added that day, "it's important to salvage what's left."


End file.
